A Sluggy Halloween Party
by m1347
Summary: otpisms.'s OTP Idea #621: Imagine your OTP going to a Halloween party and realizing they have the same costume.


**OTP Idea #621: 11 Days Till Halloween**

 **Imagine your OTP going to a Halloween party and realizing they have the same costume.**

 **And another prompt I can't find right now about the lights going off at a Halloween party.**

In Tom Riddle's opinion, the idea of Halloween as a whole was a foolish holiday to begin with. As a child, there had never been enough money to buy a costume he would only wear once, and as such, he had never really seen the point in the thing.

But now he was in university, and he had important connections to make and people to impress. Unfortunately for Tom, Horace Slughorn was one such person. And since it was Halloween, Slughorn had themed his latest 'Slug Club' party to be in costume.

So Tom Riddle had dutifully purchased a moderately less ridiculous-looking Dark wizard costume. He could wear darker clothing, as he typically preferred to do, and he secretly thought that the dark, billowing cloak suited him.

He had arrived at the party intent upon finding Cornelius Fudge, a prominent Parliament member who Slughorn had hinted would be in attendance. He searched the room, but before he could find the man, a voice from behind him spoke.

"Harry, have you seen- oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were my friend. It's the costume, I'm sorry," a bushy-haired… was she meant to be a cat?... got out before rushing away again.

Tom frowned. _The costume?_ he wondered. Craning his neck so as to follow the girl's path, he saw her approach-

 _Blast it!_ She had been approaching her friend Harry, Harry _Potter_ , Slughorn's and everyone else's favorite golden child. He was tall, good-looking, and the star athlete on the football team. He didn't appear to try very hard academically but Tom had classes with him and knew if he had tried harder, he could have been Tom's academic rival, which irked Tom endlessly. He tried to steer clear of Potter, mostly because he was sure he would be incredibly obnoxious to interact with in any way, and it would look bad for Tom to put the golden boy in his place.

But now- _now_ \- Potter had gone and stolen his bloody costume. The same robe, wand, and even a practically identical _shirt_ \- no _wonder_ the girl (Hermione Granger, he belatedly remembered) had mistaken him for Potter.

He nearly strode over to give Potter a piece of his mind right then and there, but thought better of it. He had appearances to maintain. He would not act impulsively and ruin his plans for the evening just because Potter was being his usual, infuriating self.

Glancing to his left, he saw Slughorn chatting with a blond girl- Luna Lovegood, he realized, and smirked. Slughorn would love to have an excuse to quit talking to her, and Tom was, in this case, more than happy to oblige him. Pasting a smile onto his face, he sauntered toward them and, as expected, Slughorn quickly extricated himself from the conversation under the pretense of having some important news to share with Tom.

"Why, hello, Professor," Tom intoned. "This party is positively fantastic. I confess myself quite impressed." Every time he spoke with the man, he wondered how he could possibly believe the obvious flattery, but every time, Slughorn lapped it up like it was his beloved crystallized pineapple.

Slughorn beamed. "Why thank you, Tom! I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. Have you spoken with Mr. Fudge yet this evening? I know you were particularly interested in meeting him."

Cornelius Fudge was a member of Parliament who was quickly gaining fame and popularity, and Tom believed that gaining his interest and favor early on would be beneficial.

"I wasn't aware he had arrived yet, sir," Tom replied to Slughorn.

"Oh, but I'd just seen him! And yes, there he is now, speaking with young Harry Potter!" Slughorn informed him, turning his head to the left to observe Fudge gesturing emphatically at Potter.

Tom forced himself to remain smiling. "How lovely," he intoned dryly. Slughorn, per usual, missed the sarcasm.

"Well, Tom, I'd be happy to introduce you, if you'd like," Slughorn offered. Tom internally thanked the universe (and his professor) for repaying his timely rescue of Slughorn.

As they walked toward Fudge and Potter, Tom could not help but notice that one difference between his costume and Potter's was, well, the way it was worn. Where Tom walked with confidence and grace, Potter seemed slightly more unassuming, and where Tom's build was leaner, Potter's muscles were more defined in the tight, long-sleeved black T-shirt he was wearing.

"Mr. Fudge, I'd like to introduce you to a star student of mine, Tom Riddle," Slughorn told Fudge, beaming once again. Annoying as Slughorn could be, he had his uses.

"It's a pleasure to meet anyone Horace speaks so highly of as you," Fudge told him, smiling.

"Why thank you, sir. The pleasure is all mine," Tom said, no longer having to force his smile so much now that he had accomplished his main goal of the evening.

"And you and Mr. Potter seem to be matching! I didn't know you two were friends," added Slughorn good-naturedly.

Tom wasn't sure who we wanted to slap more: Potter or Slughorn. _He was supposed to be making a good impression on Fudge, damn it!_

He and Potter made awkward eye contact. Tom resented the utterly innocent look Potter gave him. He wondered if he could murder the other boy with his eyes.

Potter was the first to speak. "Er," he said, "we're not- that is to say, it was unintentional."

Tom nodded his agreement, turning to face Slughorn and Fudge. He smiled gracefully at Fudge, when suddenly the lights went out. Everyone at the gathering began to speak at once.

"Who would have-"

"I wonder if it's part of the theme-"

"What's going on-"

A gunshot went off alarmingly close to Tom, and the next thing he heard was unmistakably Potter, who was apparently still standing next to him, shouting "EVERYONE GET DOWN!"

Tom, still alarmed by the gunshot and trying to discern through the darkness who had fired the shot and who, if anyone, had been injured, when he felt a hand pulling him down with quite a lot of force. He jolted in fear at first, but then realized the large, strong hand was most likely Potter's. The hand remained on his arm for a beat, and then let go. Curse the golden boy and his stupid heroics.

The room had gone very suddenly silent when the gun had been fired, and everyone remained silent for several minutes after, apparently realizing the danger. After it was clear that no other shots had been fired, someone evidently had the sense to feel around for a light switch, and the lights flickered back on above them.

Tom first saw Potter's strikingly green eyes, and quickly turned his head only to see-

Cornelius Fudge, lying on the ground, a bright red stain blooming through his white dress shirt and a puddle of the same color spreading around him.

"Someone call an ambulance!" Tom said, rushing over to the man to check for a pulse. Potter, evidently trying to steal the glory, appeared next to him.

Slughorn shakily went to find a phone with which to call the ambulance, and Tom felt a very faint pulse in Fudge's neck. Potter pulled off his cloak and began balling it up. His eyes met Tom's.

"He has a pulse, but it's faint," Tom informed him, watching him use the cloak to apply pressure to the wound. "I'll go find Slughorn, make sure he tells them."

He quickly left the room and found Slughorn in his office, listening attentively to the receiver. He said lowly, "He has a very faint pulse, sir."

Slughorn nodded his thanks and began to relay the information to the telephone. Tom returned to the hall, to see Potter still attending to Fudge. He knelt next to them.

"Perhaps we should consult about our costumes next year," Potter deadpanned. "I can't tell you how many people mistook me for you." It took Tom a moment to realize he was joking.

"Ha," Tom replied blandly. "Perhaps."

Potter looked at him searchingly, and Tom felt a strange tingle in his spine.

"Don't you ever make jokes?" He really did seem serious this time, and Tom snapped back, "Well, it hardly seems like the appropriate time for one."

"Was just trying to pass the time," Potter muttered, turning back to look at his hands on the now-soaked makeshift bandage. A small blush appeared on Potter's cheeks and Tom belatedly realized Potter was _embarrassed._

He didn't know why this surprised him. He supposed he had thought Potter arrogant, but now that he thought on it, there was no real evidence of this in any of the interactions he had seen Potter have.

A few paramedics entered the room carrying a stretcher, and Tom and Harry stepped back to allow them to load Fudge onto it and carry him away.

"Well," said Harry. "What a way to spend Halloween. I don't pity the poor man."

"Indeed," Tom replied, peripherally noticing Slughorn approaching them.

"I don't know how to thank you two for stepping up to take leadership in this hour of crisis, not that I am at all surprised," Slughorn told them, and added as an afterthought, "You know, you two really are similar. I don't see why you aren't closer friends; I think you would get on famously."

He bustled away to assuage the fears of the remaining guests before either Tom or Ha- Potter could respond.

"Er," Potter said to him. "I suppose you've got plans afterwards, but if you don't, you could feel free to come to my dorm? I'm having a smaller get-together with my friends. It'll be rather more relaxed than all, er, this. I've got some snacks and a some movies picked out, too."

Tom couldn't believe it. Potter really did appear to be genuine in his invitation. He looked at him, planning to turn down the offer, but instead he said, "Yeah. I'd like that."

Potter smiled at him then, a real, genuine thing, and Tom felt his spine tingle again. He felt his face heating for reasons he didn't want to think about. Potter told him where he lived, and then walked away, presumably to find his other friends.

Not that Tom was friends with Harry Potter. He had no idea why he had even said yes to the party invite, anyway. The entire reason he hadn't had any other plans was because he didn't like Halloween to begin with.

 _But_ , a small voice in the back of his head reminded him, _you did say yes. And it does sound like rather more fun than returning to your dorm._

Despite himself, Tom Riddle smiled.

A/N: I know it's pretty rough around the edges, but please let me know if you liked it and/or anything I can work on as an author.

Have a happy Halloween!


End file.
